


The Real Sex Tapes

by WillowClemson



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Cutting, Drugs, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Rape, Rough Sex, Showers, Truth, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowClemson/pseuds/WillowClemson
Summary: This isn't smut.
Kudos: 5





	1. J

1\. J

J was my first. We'd been dating some time, and he'd been begging me to fuck him for months. We'd been cuddling after school for a few weeks and he would get handsy every time. I had had a hard day; I forgot to eat or practice any hygiene, failed a test, and sweat a lot at the gym, so he suggested I take a shower to detox from my day before we cuddled. I was pretty ripe, so I agreed. Then, once I was already naked and dripping wet, he came in the shower with me, naked. We talked, mostly, but then he got an erection and started going on about anal.   
"Fine, stick it up my ass, why don't ya," I shrugged and he might've thought I was being serious, or maybe my sarcasm just pissed him off. But, he'd gotten his hand around my throat before I could tell. He choked me against the shower tiles until I nearly blacked out and as I coughed my way back to full vision, I felt his cock press into my asshole, my hands up behind my neck used as leverage to keep my head firmly against the edge of the tub. He didn't use lube and he had no fucking idea what he was doing. It was one of the worst pains I'd ever felt, and he pinned me tighter before I could slip out of his grip. I didn't know why at the time, but he pulled out because he couldn't jam his cock any further up my ass. But when he pulled out, I was so afraid he would do it again that I shouted at him to just fuck me, thinking whatever it would feel like, it couldn't possibly be as painful. I was wrong. He dragged me to the bedroom by my wet hair, fucked my virginity away for two hours straight, and still managed not to cum; he'd jacked off far too much for that. I went into a dazed state, an out of body experience if you will, which was not the typical floating of my spirit above my body, but the feeling of having absence of a spirit at all. When he decided he had to kick me out before his mom got home, he pulled out, dressed me, and shoved me out the door with my things. And for some reason, I came back every weekday for the next seven months. I try not to remember most of it. He hit me most days and called me awful things, but he had already taken my virginity, so I called him Master and submitted willingly to avoid him hitting me hard enough to bruise where my parents would see. Some days the sex was actually enjoyable, and he would be unearthly kind and tender, apologizing for being so angry when he had hit me. I did care about him deeply, but that was before I discovered he'd cheated on me for that same time, and he subsequently dumped me. We remained friends for as long as was possible in our volatile state, because it was what he said he wanted and I never did have the strength to tell him no.


	2. K

2\. K

I had cut my legs pretty severely this time. I sliced my inner thighs and carved the word "disappointment" into my calf deep enough to leave a scar that still shows up sometimes under hot water. K came running as soon as I told him, showing up on my doorstep, unwanted and uninvited. He climbed through my window, and prevented me from commiting suicide for a few hours, holding me down, taking away my knives, and reassuring me that life didn't end here. I was bloody and it hurt, but eventually I calmed down and let him bandage me up. His hands were gentle on my skin, his eyes were tender, empathetic. No pants, emotionally vulnerable, and eternally grateful, my desire took over. So did his. We had sweet, gentle sex on my parents' perfectly made bed, right next to bloodied bandages and hydrogen peroxide. Once again, sex and pain went hand in hand for me, it seemed one without the other was impossible, their symbiosis inevitable. His cock was much larger than J's, too large in fact. The head bruised my cervix over and over, but it was worth it to see the look on his face as he spilled his cum over my torso, the liquid on my tits reflecting the late morning sun through my parents' balcony doors. He was always so calm that the animalistic groans and grunts that came out of him made me think something was really wrong, but when asked he assured me he was fine, repeatedly. We cleaned up and made out for a bit, but it wasn't long before we realized there wasn't much else to do and went up to my room for round two. He came again, just as quickly as before, not more than ten minutes, but I was satisfied enough, and having previously been humped for hours at a time with little cum involved, I welcomed the speed. He left immediately after, with a rather heartfelt goodbye. Had I know that would be the last time I'd see him for several months, I'd have kissed him longer.   
He resurfaced 7 months later, interrupting a steady relationship of mine that didn't involve sex. My boyfriend at the time was a military man--affectionately loyal, ferociously competetive to the point of bloodthirsty, and inordinately respectful of only those he felt had earned it--exactly my type, might've even made a good husband. But K had seniority. I dumped Mr. Air Force for my old lover, and we quickly got back into old habits. He had me under the covers once more, patiently teaching me how to suck his cock just right, how to ride him, how to be dominant, but according to him to be good at dominance, you have to experience submission. Complete submission.   
I was underneath of him in his bed, his 'cousin' watching from the corner of the room, his hands running all over my body, forced to keep my eyes open. If I shut them, he bit me. Hard. I couldn't smile, couldn't moan, couldn't shut my eyes, couldn't move my legs, couldn't touch him. Just lay there like a doll. Like a sex doll. Exactly like that. I was a toy, a plaything, his plaything, his bitch. But he was good at it. He made me want to ride his cock like a stallion, pull his hair, bite his neck, scream his name. But I stayed still and quiet like he taught me through it all. He sat on my hips and slid his fingers up over my stomach then one down to my clit and one over my breasts. He looked into my eyes for a reaction that I didn't give, for I knew what he would do if I did. He moved his fingers into my cunt and began fucking me with them, rubbing my clit and ass with the leftover fingers. The hand that was on my breast glided up over my neck, letting my shirt slip over my eyes. This was new. I couldn't see and suddenly he lifted his hand. I couldn't see what he was doing, but his other hand was relentlessly fucking my cunt. I was nearly incoherent when I felt a cold, hard object on my skin. It was thin and sharp. No. No. All I could think was No. I tried to move, but his friend now had me pinned down, unable to move away. I couldn't see. The pressure of the knife was getting heavier, and I could feel the point jabbing into my stomach, slicing just enough to bleed. I was screaming. He was still fucking me with the other hand. Pleasure and pain. The cycle continued. Cut. Fuck. Cut. Fuck. Cut. Fuck. I thought I was going to die there, as part of some sick snuff in his head. I orgasmed eventually, but it was far from a release. He took the shirt off my head so I could see, told me I'd won my dominance over him, and handed me the knife. But I didn't want it. My victory wasn't happy. I wanted to slice his throat open with that knife, carve his dick out of his crotch when he thought I'd suck it...but I did as he taught me. I stayed silent, gave no reaction, and left, never to come back.   
It was about two years later before I found out he commit suicide via overdose shortly after I'd left.   
Sometimes I feel guilty.   
Sometimes I'm relieved he's gone.


	3. G/T

3\. G/T

G was an adrenaline junkie for sure. He was nothing like the other men. He may have been more reckless, more damaged, but he respected me like I'd never experienced before. Granted, he liked to do things that challenged his own sanity, but after a year of no physical contact with the opposite sex and my most recent high school crush having hung himself, I was badly in need of some crazy. The first foreplay was tender, his hands caressing my breasts, soft whispers in my ears as he touched me with such reverence. I was on cloud nine as he slid his fingers in and out of my cunt, miraculously finding my clit over and over again. But when it came to penetration, his dick wasn't in it. I could tell he didn't really want it, but I was depressed and numb and I didn't really care what he wanted. I wanted him inside me and he'd followed me through the threshold. So I begged and he did. Once again, it was painful. Was all the hype really just bullshit, or was there just something really wrong with me? I didn't know it at the time, but it hurt because he wasn't hard. Stage fright? We both left unsatisfied, but that didn't stop us from trying again.  
He led me across town to a public roof. He offered me drugs, and I took them. We trespassed into government property so that he could trespass inside me. We made out in the stairwell and he was definitely hard this time, but I needed somewhere more private. He took me up higher to his secret hideout. We broke into the town hall generator room from a window he deftedly unlocked from the outside with a hanger and a flathead screwdriver. We giggled and played naked like children in the filthy space, but what we did after was far from childish. I was pretty high at this point, and I only remember bits and pieces: his hands on my body, my apprehension to touch him, his laugh at my clumsiness. Doggystyle, missionary, cowgirl, sitting up, we fucked six ways from Sunday. It was mind-blowing, but, as before, the penetration just didn't compare with the rest. For the first time, there was no pain. He was so tender, so attuned to what would please me. He explored me with his mouth, kissing my nipples, sucking my clit, and eating me out without even being asked, or expecting me to suck him off in return. Thinking back, I should have. I wanted to. I loved him. But I didn't get the chance, because he didn't love me, and when he told me he loved her, he cut me off and I thought we'd never fuck again.  
Two years later, while I was dating C, he resurfaced.   
Invited me into his home, made me coffee, kissed me, fucked me, introduced me to his mom, held my hand in public, talked just like old times. Reminisced like it meant something to him. I cheated on C. G and I "made love" for the first time. He'd definitely lost some of his mojo, but I didn't care. I sucked his cock until I couldn't anymore. I loved him. I told him so. Told him I wanted to have a future, a life together, have kids. I thought he'd have been happy.  
He freaked out, pushed me away, and disappeared again. My mistake.  
And in case you thought it was actually over this time, just like I did, he came back one more time, eight months later, when I was engaged to L. This time, not as G, but as T, and T is a woman now. She told me how she always loved me and thought about me constantly and the reason why she never told me was because she didn't want to be my man, but she always wanted to be my woman and she was scared that if she told me, I would reject her for not wanting to stay a man. She was smart. She shouldn't have told me. I did reject her; not for being a woman now, I could give a fuck whether she had a cock, but I was angry at her for fucking with my heart so many times. She got angry and blocked me. Good riddance. Maybe she's gone for real this time.


	4. E

4\. E

E and I were not in love. E and I never dated. E and I had no romantic attachment whatsoever. We were old friends and we'd sought comfort from each other when we were in shitty relationships before. Now we were both lonely and had been screwed over by the loves of our lives. We were angry and sad and horny and I was becoming a heartless woman. So we fucked when it fit our schedules and we needed some stress relief. The sex was hot. We were animals, biting and clawing and bucking and pinning and choking each other in blind, raging lust. He would growl like a dog and I would whimper like a hyena, incoherently fucking our way to nirvana. We even fucked in his car in my college campus's parking lot once. But when it was said and done, it was just mechanics. An act of love, stripped of its emotion, became a useless transaction without much reward or satisfaction. We agreed it wasn't as good as with someone we actually cared about and talked about quitting often, but that didn't stop us until I fell for S.


	5. S

5\. S

S was my high school sweetheart. After J had destroyed me, he invited me to prom. I went and had a damn good time. I met his folks and he was nice, but we were incompatible at best, so I left him.  
But two years later he hit me up and I had recently been dumped by G, and my trysts with E weren't going so well, so I was horny and lonely, and again, I couldn't say fuck me fast enough. S was a glorious lover. Rivaled even G. Six ways from sunday and more. He was even strong enough to hold me upside-down in the air while he sucked my clit. He threw me on the mattress and ate me out for hours before carving my cunt with his massive cock until I screamed. He was a fantasy man, the kind you only see in smut books and movies. Little did I know it was due to all the fucking steroids. He wanted to be a firefighter. He took care of me. He fucked my ass, but gently, the right way. Sometimes he'd play a bit too rough in bed, spank a bit too hard, call me a name that was just a bit out of line, but I trusted him. He fed me brownies and held me while we slept under his covers, his dog at the foot of his bed. I played barbie with his neice. I learned to cook traditional tribal food from his uncle. He was the first lover to buy me a ring. For Christmas, I gave his mother a piece of Navajo horsehair pottery that cost me a small fortune, gave his neice the cupcake doll she always wanted that I had kept since I was little and never let go of, and gave him a new rambo knife to replace the one I had broken, along with a set of sharpening stones and a black, ornamental leather sheath I crafted myself. I wouldn't have spent so much of my heart on it if I knew he'd stab me in the back seconds after I had given it to him. He dumped me, without reason, on Christmas.  
It wouldn't have hurt so much if he didn't later make it out to be a manipulative plan he had since prom. Shouted it to the world that I was easy and stupid. "#finallygotbackatthatbitchfromhighschool" He couldn't have really been pretending the entire time just to hurt me, could he?


	6. C

6\. C

C was adorable. C was tender. C always had the stoner equivalent of whiskey dick. C was my summer fling that I wanted to be more, but knew it never would be. So did he. We had sex and told each other sweet nothings for a few beautiful months. A lot about him reminded me of a puppy. He was a slobbery kisser, and he'd lay on bottom while I did most of the work. I sucked his cock for the first time on his birthday, hiding from his friends, kneeling at his feet in my car. I used new tricks I'd learned recently to make sure he came. I swirled my tongue around his cock to make sure I had all his cum before swallowing. He was my sweet little bitch from then on. I loved having control for once, and he liked it when I took it. We were hoping to try long distance, but a few weeks before I was to move away, he bailed. Figures. That was okay. A few days before he bailed, I cheated on him with G. C and G already hated each other, and I wasn't going to ruin my last moments with C by coming clean about my affair, certainly if G was going to stay and C wasn't. But it didn't matter, because G didn't really care either.


	7. W

7\. W

W was a god-fearing man. He was kind and philosophical and believed he could drive out demons. G had just broken my heart for the third time before I had to move far away from him for my schooling. I was tired. I was alone. I had demons that needed driving.  
W was sweet and sexy and liked terrariums, painting, and hiking under the stars. He reminded me of my brother, so familiar, so trusted. My brother is a good lover, I'm sure; the first woman he fucked married him. If only I'd been so lucky. W never lied to me. I knew he wouldn't stay. But I just wanted him to so badly.  
So I cleaned the shit out of my apartment, invited him over, and taught him to knit, and knowing it was cold in the room, I pulled the covers off the bed to floor and snuggled him close. It felt so good to have him close to me. He was a good kisser, and a good fuck. Too much for me, in fact. The tenderness of his hands and lips was nothing compared to the relentless thrusting of his cock. He was definitely edging, and I loved it. I was whimpering and biting my lips trying not to alert my neighbors to the fact that there was a man humping away with me in my room. After an hour and a half, I had to tell him to stop, but according to him, his last--and first--girlfriend was extra needy, so he could have gone for at least three hours. He held my hand. He stayed to snuggle for a few hours. I wanted nothing more than to cuddle up on his chest and feel him breathing, but I kept my distance. I knew it was a one night stand, and I should have savoured the moment, kissed him longer, and maybe even told him how I really felt. But I didn't. And he left without a backwards glance, just like everyone else. I was always just a fuck.


	8. L & Mrs. T

8\. L and Mrs. T

L was originally someone I was using. He was a stranger who I used as a therapist and tongue exercise. But he was a loner like me, a 22 year old virgin who really needed someone to rub him out at night. And he was a gentleman, an unrefined, unsophisticated asshole, but a gentleman nonetheless. The first few times I ordered him to fuck me or leave, he chose the latter, gently rejecting me every time, no matter how cruel I was. We fought. A lot. But eventually, I got him to trust me. Really, I was so cruel because I wanted to drive him away. Sometimes I'd even hit him. I wanted the first time he had sex to be with someone who loved him. I failed. I didn't love him the first time we kissed, or the first time we had anal sex, or when I raped his virginity away. He would never call it that, but it's what I did, and I did it on purpose, even though I knew it wasn't what he wanted. He cried after, and I held him. That's what made me turn my life around. That's what made me love him. I have many regrets about how I treated him when we met. Some days, I wish he'd never met me at all. He tried so hard to make me happy, and it crushed me that I couldn't be the woman he needed. He's the first person who gave polyamory a solid try. He was monogamous and not changing for a while, but he was depressed, so he sacrificed what he needed for what I wanted and we started dating Mr. and Mrs. T as well. Mrs. T was very similar to L, and Mr. T and I were trying hard to hook them up. Unfortunately, they were both shy. We weren't legally married, but we all wore wedding rings, I called L my husband and he called me his wife. We talked about naming our firstborn "Logan" and how many kids we'd have. The four of us watched porn together and went to movies and ate and made plans for the future. I was so fucking happy. It felt like it'd actually be forever. But then covid 19 hit and they sent all us college students home. My loan for my senior year didn't get approved. I wasn't coming back to school with L in the fall, in fact, I wasn't coming back to town at all. We started to argue. Aparently we weren't the only ones, because Mr. T called to tell me he and his wife were getting a divorce. After much deliberation, they had decided to try to stay together and Mr. T left me to save the marriage... even though they wound up getting divorced anyways. I was going to move in with them, so I needed a new place to live, soon. But L said he wasn't ready for that. Our arguments grew even more despicable. I called him a coward and a child for not having more responsibility with our future. He told me I was selfish and would be a lousy mother and that living with me would be a burden sent straight from hell. We fought even more, no punches pulled, then, on the night of my 20th birthday, L left me, too. I tried for a few weeks to get him back, to salvage something... but it was over as soon as I left campus. It was a nice dream, but we didn't have it in us to be long distance all summer, let alone all year. I just hope L is better off without me. Within the span of a week, my entire family had fallen apart and everyone I loved had left me behind. I'd never worked so hard to keep a sinking ship afloat in my life. It fucking destroyed me.


	9. Mr. T

...  
To be determined.


End file.
